High Surprises
by Mary Nirvana
Summary: When Hermione allows herself to be persuaded to go to a Muggle club opening, she has no idea whom she is about to meet and what kind of surprises the night holds. - A little HGMM one shot including some cookies, heartfelt confessions and a fair bit of fun.


_Hello everyone,_

 _I was overwhelmed by the responses I got to my previous one shot – thank you all so so much, really. This one is not related to "Make Me Remember" (I'm thinking about continuing that, though), it's a lighter, more humorous piece. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. :)_

 _As usual, I'm borrowing Jo Rowling's characters here._

 _Thank you again, redhead evans, for the amazing beta work!_

* * *

 **High Surprises**

* * *

Hermione Granger blinked disbelievingly. Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her. Surely Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was not standing in the VIP lounge of Edinburgh's newest night club, folding leaflets into paper planes and letting them soar through the club? Every now and then squirming in excitement, uncaring or even unaware of some people staring at her with distinct amusement? No, this was not Minerva ' _sternest teacher of all time'_ McGonagall, wearing her hair in a loose braid and looking really hot in her tight blue jeans and white top. Her perfect legs were-

"Come on, Hermione, let's get something to drink," she heard Simon cry over the loud music. The thirty-something man was one of her colleagues at the publishing house she worked undercover at for the Ministry. It was a Muggle business, and she only visited once a week to make sure that nothing which violated the Statute of Secrecy would be published, but she got along well with her colleagues and they sometimes asked her to join them when they had a night out.

Marilyn, who was her main contact person and had become somewhat like a friend, was responsible this time: She had, with a series of invalid arguments ("I bet you haven't got properly sloshed in ages" and "we'll get you laid" being two of those that Hermione decidedly ruled out, and "you need to get away from work for some time" being the one that finally did the trick), coaxed Hermione into coming to a club opening with them.

Getting their drinks, the group settled in a far corner and Hermione had no longer a chance to watch the woman that was absolutely not Minerva McGonagall.

On her way to the loo nearly an hour later, Hermione saw her again, and again she was sure: sure that she couldn't be sure. If the butterflies in her stomach were anything to go on, it had to be her mentor. Drunk, at a Muggle club. No, probably not.

She shook her head and when she came back from the bathroom, the woman was out of sight again. Muttering under her breath, she went back to her colleagues, only to find that they'd decided to crash the dance floor. Feeling like the movement would do her stiff body good, Hermione approved and went first. Dancing happily, all the while softly rejecting Tony's approaches, her eyes found _the_ _woman_ again.

She was walking straight onto the DJ stand with self-confidence, and no-one stopped her. Hermione saw her talking to the DJ, who raised his eyebrows in amusement, and then turning back towards the dance floor, looking rather unsatisfied.

The young witch waited until Not-Minerva was dancing on the other side of the floor again and headed towards the DJ stand. She waved both of her hands, but the DJ didn't seem to notice her. A woman gestured her to come up just like Minerva had done, and Hermione took some shaky steps onto the stand, walking towards the DJ.

"Excuse me?" she said, finally having the man's attention. "That woman that was here just a few moments ago, what did she say?"

"Wanted me to play a song by some Weird Sisters," the DJ replied immediately. "Told her _she_ was a weird sister indeed; a pretty one, though. Then she left. I think she's had enough, y'should probably get her and take her home if ye know her."

Frowning, Hermione held her breath. So she was sure now, the butterflies hadn't lied. Realising the DJ was watching her and she hadn't said anything, she nodded, "Yeah, I probably should."

Her dreamy look in Minerva's direction did not go unnoticed.

"Do it, then," the DJ winked joyfully, "before someone else does. D'ye want me to play a nice hook-up song?"

"Umm," Hermione mumbled, blushing, "no, no worries, I'll just... I'll go and get her... thank you."

She rushed down the stand and towards Minerva, deciding that if she stopped to think about her actions, she might lose herself in doubts and fears. And the DJ was right, after all: Minerva looked hot; many eyes had been following her around ever since Hermione had noticed her. Given her inebriated state, the older witch could easily be picked up and raped or even killed. She had to save her.

Approaching her target, Hermione tried to keep her breathing under control. She touched Minerva's shoulder as soon as she was close enough, and leaned in.

"Hi," she called over the loud music. The other woman turned to look at her intensely; her face lighted up and Hermione was relieved that she seemed to recognise her.

"Hey pretty," was the casual reply she had not at all expected. "Care for a dance, or fancy a drink, maybe?" If Hermione didn't know better, she might think Minerva was openly flirting with her.

"Not funny," she replied.

"Why, don't you want to?" The older woman looked disappointed, and while Hermione was sure she was faking it, she couldn't help wondering what Minerva was up to.

Puzzled, she played along: "Of course I do. A dance, though; no drink. I think you've had enough."

Minerva's face brightened as she pulled the young witch closer, and Hermione thought she heard her mumble, "I certainly haven't had enough of you", before she threw her arms around Hermione's waist and pressed their bodies together.

A loud gasp escaped Hermione's lips. The contact lit a fire in her veins and the look on her face changed from confused to aroused in less than half a second. She told herself to get a grip and tried to think of something else while she engaged in Minerva's idea of dancing, which seemed much more like soft porn. Every now and then she glanced around carefully, checking if any wizarding folk were present. The thought of Rita Skeeter getting a snapshot of the sloshed Headmistress and her former student dancing like this made her sick. She had some control over the Muggle press, but none at all over the Daily Prophet. She could only spot her colleagues, though. Surely they would tease her about what they witnessed, but they didn't know Minerva, so it meant no harm. Simon was pinching Tony's shoulder, the latter looking a bit disappointed by the latest events, but smiling encouragingly when Hermione met his eyes.

"Did you eat anything or did you get sloshed on an empty stomach?" Hermione called over the loud music, trying to distract herself from the effect the Headmistresses movements had on her.

"I had cookies for dinner, lots of them. I brought some, do you want one?" Minerva fumbled with her small bag clumsily as her eyes suddenly got stuck on Hermione's décolletage.

Hermione shook her head quickly and her eyes widened when she realised what kind of cookies Minerva must have consumed. "No thank you, I'm fine." They fell silent again.

The young woman's body temperature rose when Minerva casually pressed a leg between hers and moved her right hand from her waist to her face and eventually to her neck. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as Minerva pulled her closer... Remembering that Minerva was not herself, Hermione averted her face with great effort. It was time for a new strategy.

"Don't you think we should leave?" she asked the older witch, who nodded absentmindedly, looking at her with piercing green eyes. Eyes that somehow seemed veiled, confirming Hermione's theory that there was not only alcohol in Minerva's system. "Come on, let's go," Hermione said, not giving Minerva another opportunity to try for a kiss. She took her arm and looked around for her colleagues.

She found Marilyn, who was looking at the pair expectantly when they reached her. Hermione cleared her throat. "Look, I gotta take her home, she's had too many drinks and – _why are you laughing_?"

"That dancing was hot, dear Lord! I never considered you the _take a woman home from a heated club night_ type," Marilyn replied, smirking broadly. She held up her hand when Hermione opened her mouth to defy herself. "No, sorry, you're getting a drunken woman home safely, which is a noble act. You two seem really familiar, by the way; do you know each other?"

Hermione answered before she realised that it was a catchy question. "Yeah, we do. She's a friend of a friend," she added quickly.

"Right, get her, then," Marilyn said, smiling, "see you next week!"

* * *

They left the club barely a minute later. Not daring to Side-Along-Apparate the inebriated woman, Hermione linked their arms and slowly started walking the short way to her flat. Something had to be done about the cookies, as their effects did not seem to fade, and she searched her bag for her mobile with her free hand.

"Ron, I'm very sorry for disturbing you at this time of night, but I need your help in a rather delicate matter," she started as soon as her best friend had answered the phone.

"Any time, sweetie," he replied calmly and she knew that he meant what he said. "Fire away."

"Thank you," she sighed, "here's the thing. You know how my Muggle colleagues talked me into going to that club opening tonight? Well, I met Minerva McGonagall there." She could hear her best friend gasp in surprise at her words. "Pretty much how I reacted," she commented.

"So what happened?" Ron inquired. Hermione thought for a moment; she wasn't sure how to put the recent developments into words. She went for the short version.

"She's high."

A snort and a disbelieving outburst of laughter coming from the other end of the phone confirmed the absurdity of the situation. "You're kidding me, right?"

Hermione turned to look at Minerva toddling next to her. No, she definitely wasn't kidding. "She's walking next to me like a pet, confident that I'm hooking her up, not in her right mind and probably also drunk. But in the first place, I'm fairly sure she's had some hash cookies."

"Hash cookies?" Ron asked, still half-laughing.

"Some Muggle drugs," Hermione replied. "Will a bezoar work in such a case?"

"Most likely, as it clears the body of almost any kind of poison," came the very serious reply. "It will wipe the alcohol out of her system, too. Where are you?"

"Just outside my flat."

"I'll be there in ten minutes to bring you one. Take care!"

"Why are you talking to that little thing?" Minerva's voice inquired curiously, trying to get hold of Hermione's mobile phone. "And what were you talking about? I only got some bits."

The young woman sighed, turned her phone of and gave it to her former professor, who started exploring every inch of it the moment she laid her hands on it; at least Hermione would be able to open the doors undisturbed now.

She dragged Minerva inside and up the stairs towards her flat. The Headmistress was still fumbling with the phone, mirroring Hermione's actions of pressing it to her ear, when they entered the flat.

"Hello? Anyone there?" Minerva didn't seem interested in her new surroundings, but tried to get a reply from the small box in her hand instead.

"I'm here," Hermione said in an attempt to regain the older woman's attention. "That thing won't talk; just lay it down on the kitchen table."

She hadn't expected quick obedience and was surprised when Minerva immediately laid the phone down, headed into the living room and turned back to her with a wide smile. A rather attractive one, she admitted to herself. They stood for several long moments, facing each other.

"Can I get you some tea?" Hermione finally broke the silence, suddenly realising that Minerva had walked into the living room on purpose; on that one particular purpose she believed Hermione to have. "Shall we sit at the kitchen table?" she pressed on, intent on getting the older witch back into her kitchen; away from dangerous places like her sofa, or her carpet.

"No," Minerva said firmly. "No, I think you should come here and kiss me."

Where was Ron? Hermione checked her watch; it had been a mere four minutes since they'd talked. She felt a rush of heat in her stomach that quickly spread through her whole body, making her head dizzy and her lower regions burn slightly. There was nothing she'd rather do than respond to the Headmistresses demand, walk over to her and kiss her full force – if said woman wasn't inebriated. Sadly, Minerva's actions and words weren't her own at that moment, and Hermione would never forgive herself for taking advantage of that. Plus, Minerva would most likely never look her in the eyes again, and she didn't think she could take that.

Slowly, she walked towards the living room without any plan at hand. Helplessly, she pointed at the shelves that covered her living room walls. "Do you want to have a look at my library? I got some new books I think you might like a lot, really."

Minerva looked at her suspiciously. "Whatever kind of a seduction technique is that? I'll show you how _we_ did that, back in the old days."

Before Hermione had time to think the words over and process the implied announcement, the older woman had already crossed the distance between them, grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close. Minerva looked into chocolate brown eyes that flickered shut in anticipation, and when Hermione held tighter onto her, unable to contain her want, she leant forward to kiss the young witch.

However, as soon as their lips touched, they stumbled over their feet and fell back, Minerva landing on top of Hermione on the thick woollen carpet, straddling her. She seemed delighted by their new position and the possibilities it gave her: for example, it allowed her to knead small, firm breasts with one of her hands, eliciting small moans of pleasure from the woman underneath her. She muffled them by kissing Hermione again, sliding her tongue between full lips and exploring the young witch's mouth hungrily. A loud _POP_ from outside the flat, the turning of a key and hurried steps coming from the kitchen certainly didn't serve to distract the two women from their passionate kisses and explorations.

Ron stormed into the living room, exclaiming, "Sweetie, I'm here and I got the—" Stopping dead both in his tracks and words, the young Weasley took in the sight before him. He was shocked at first, but eventually had to bite back a grin at the thought of what he was just interrupting.

Hermione looked back at him like a deer in headlights. They had been caught in a really compromising position. "Umm..." What in Merlin's name was she going to say, and why was her voice sounding so hoarse? "She fell over."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "With her tongue in your mouth?"

A blush spread over Hermione's face. She tried her best to hide the position of Minerva's hand from her best friend – and also the amount of arousal its continuing ministrations caused to flood through her.

"Yes, well," Ron continued, now grinning openly, "it would be absolutely splendid if you could replace your tongue with the antidote." He chuckled when Hermione's blush deepened. He walked over to the two women, watching as Minerva tried to re-engage his best friend into their snog and getting a good view on what the older witch's hand was doing; barely able to contain a laugh, he held his hand with the bezoar out to Hermione.

When she didn't take it at once, he added, winking, "Just for a few seconds, then you can dive back in." This woke her up from her dreamlike state, and her eyes widened suddenly.

"She is going to hate me," she said miserably, "as soon as the antidote takes effect. We'll have to at least get her off me."

Ron shook his head, "She'll know what she did anyway, so no time to be wasted. Persuade her to swallow the bezoar."

Meanwhile, Minerva had taken the initiative and crawled down on Hermione, now kissing the soft skin of her neck, pulling her shirt lower to get access to her breasts. Hermione suppressed a loud moan. If she didn't stop the Headmistress immediately, things might just get out of hand; meaning, she might not be able to stop the older woman any longer. Ron probably knew about her attraction already, and would surely have a great time ragging her with his knowledge in the following weeks.

She concentrated on the stone in Ron's hand and gathered her thoughts; she had to try not to sound too aroused.

"Hand me... that thing," she panted heavily and realised she'd just positively failed.

Her best friend's expression however was serious as he gave her the bezoar and watched as she caressed Minerva's face to get it somewhere close to her mouth.

"Darling," she whispered. Tears glinting in her eyes, she took the Headmistresses face in both of her hands and shoved the small stone into her mouth in one swift movement. Minerva struggled for a moment, her hands still clutched tight at the soft material of her collar.

It took only a few seconds for those wicked hands to loosen their grip, and Hermione knew what that meant. She prepared for the big bang, closing her eyes and hiding her tears when she felt Minerva staring down at her, her body all stiffened and her weight shifting slowly. Ron, who stood next to the two women like a statue, held his breath. When Hermione dared to open her eyes and look up, Minerva seemed to fight the instinct of averting hers with an expression of utter shock. She held Hermione's gaze for a long moment before turning to face Ron. She rolled off Hermione and slipped back towards the wall to lean onto it, straightening her hair and clothes on the way. She drew up her knees and let the back of her head fall onto the wall with a sigh.

"Couldn't you have poisoned me instead of sobering me up?" she asked dryly. Hermione might have found those words out of the Headmistresses mouth extremely funny in any other situation. Now, however, she had the nasty feeling that Minerva really meant them.

"Minerva, I'm – I'm sorry," Hermione began, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

"Are you kidd-? Hermione," Minerva said perplexed, shaking her head feverishly. "While I know it is indeed not entirely my fault as I was not in my right mind, it is to absolutely no extent _yours_. You meant to help, and my inebriated, stoned self took advantage of that, I do not expect you to ever forgive me for that." Hermione shook her head and wanted to contradict, but Minerva cut her off while moving to stand up. "Thank you a lot, Mr. Weasley, for the bezoar. Would you be so kind and not sell to the Daily Prophet what you witnessed tonight?"

Ron took the hand she offered and mumbled, "'course not." He was still holding her hand when he suddenly looked up and directly into the Headmistresses eyes. After some seconds, he found his voice again. "I am not telling a soul, and I'm leaving the two of you alone now; I believe you've got quite some stuff to discuss. Goodnight, Headmistress. See you tomorrow, 'Mione."

His best friend stood looking at him with panic written all over her features. He gave her a reassuring nod, ignored her mouthed, ' _don't go!_ ' and turned to leave. Neither Hermione nor Minerva spoke until long after a loud _CRACK_ had indicated Ron's departure.

"Hermione, I am sorry," Minerva finally breathed, unable to bear the silence any longer.

The younger witch turned away slightly; she didn't want to give away how sad she was at the prospect of Minerva regretting having kissed her.

"Don't be," she replied. "If anyone is to be sorry, it's me. I took advantage of you not being yourself." Immediately she bit her tongue: she had just admitted that she'd wanted all this to happen. "Did you have some hash cookies earlier tonight? Where did you get them from?" she asked quickly, trying to distract the other woman both from feeling guilty and from her own words.

Minerva looked out of the window onto the dark streets of Edinburgh, her expression unreadable.

"At Hogwarts, actually, though I did not know what they were. I have a suspicion that involves Albus Dumbledore and if it gets confirmed, he will be lucky to be dead already. However I cannot be sure and will have to investigate this tomorrow. Plus, I have to check on the essays that I was marking before I left for Edinburgh, which I hadn't even remotely planned. Anyway, I may have scratched some inappropriate drawings onto the last two or three ones." She sighed.

Hermione's eyes had grown wide. "Why and how would Dumbledore make hash cookies and even worse, make you eat them?"

"Oh well," the Headmistress replied, "sometimes when it crosses his mind that I might be working too hard and haven't got somebody laid in a long time, he feels the urge to lower my inhibitions to do just that. I very much think this was one of those times, but as I said, I have to be sure."

The younger witch couldn't believe what she heard. "Dumbledore, as in _dead former Headmaster_... got you high on Muggle drugs to hook you up with somebody?"

Minerva nodded. "You, to be precise. Yes, I was and am blessed with a bloody insane best friend. And I doubt it was only hash, by the way. His house elf was seen at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes some days ago, I bet I just found out why."

"Oh wow," was all the young witch could utter. Silence filled the room as both women dwelled on their thoughts.

"You said you took advantage of me," the older of the two suddenly remarked.

"Ah." Hermione frowned. "I thought that might come up again."

"After me, your former teacher, forcing myself onto you, kissing you and touching you in a most inappropriate way, you still claim that _you_ took advantage of me being stoned?" She sighed again. "I can't believe that after all these years, we are having this conversation now, nor am I sure that this is the time and place for it; but then again, I never believed there to be any place or time for it. We need to sort this out."

Hermione's eyes had widened with every word and she was glad Minerva had still turned her back to her. So her mentor had known about her secret crush for all those years, and now she was about to finally and irretrievably turn her former student down. She blinked a few times to stop the tears in her eyes from falling.

"There's no need to," she said weakly, "I understand. You uttering it won't help, it won't stop what I feel, but I'll handle it. I had it well under control, it was just – how did you put it – _you forcing yourself onto me_ that made it rather hard to resist. I'm sorry about letting myself go, it won't happen again." Voice firmer now, Hermione watched the Headmistress closely, dreading the moment when she'd turn around to face her.

"You do have," Minerva began slowly, "feelings towards me?"

"I thought you'd known about them for years?" Hermione replied, irritated.

Minerva finally turned around, looking equally confused. "I'm afraid I don't follow?"

"You said we would be having this conversation 'after all these years'," Hermione explained. "After all these years of you knowing how I feel, but ignoring it because you'd have to hurt me by turning me down."

"And how long have you been feeling like this?" Minerva's voice was still calm and controlled.

Hermione knit her brow in incomprehension. "Why would we be having this conversation if you didn't know all about that?"

The older witch paused and then shook her head slightly. "I was talking about my own feelings, Hermione."

Hermione gasped. "Your—?"

"How many years?" Minerva interrupted, referring to her original question.

"I realised that I felt something for you while we were on the run. It grew stronger ever since we met more regularly for tea, and got to know each other a bit. You?" Hermione dared throwing the question back.

"We did know each other quite a bit even before that."

Hermione tilted her head. "I knew the Headmistress, and the stern professor. I didn't know Minerva, who would laugh wholeheartedly at me pouring tea all over my robe, or joke about quitting her job and starting as a waitress in a Muggle fast food restaurant, or tell me about a fun night out with Severus Snape."

Minerva smiled at those words and faced the window again before she spoke. "I fell for you that night when you ran away from Hogwarts, broke into St. Mungo's and snuck into my room to see me after I'd been attacked by Dolores Umbridge and the Aurors."

Now it was Hermione who smiled at the memory. "To this day, no-one knows about that."

A small chuckle escaped Minerva's throat. "And to this day, you haven't been punished for your severe rule-breaking."

"Because the woman I broke all those rules for benefited from it, as it turns out." Hermione grinned.

"Oh well," the older woman replied with a smirk, but then suddenly became very serious.

Sensing the change the word 'benefit' had brought to Minerva's mood, Hermione quickly added, "That is, she might benefit from it if she chooses to be with me now. Otherwise, I might be tempted to steal that recipe for the hash cookies to get her high more often, if that's the only way to hook up with her."

The Headmistresses features did not relax at Hermione's joke, rather the opposite: her posture got even more stiffened. "I can't just _choose_ to be with you, Hermione. What are you thinking? I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and you're my former student. I _taught_ you. I wouldn't even be able to ever tell anybody a romantic story of how I fell in love with you, because when I did, I was your bloody teacher, and you were a minor under my care. It's just SO wrong!"

"I think it's quite romantic that I broke out of Hogwarts and into St. Mungo's to see you," Hermione remarked, again trying to diffuse the tension. "No, sorry," she said quickly, "I understand. People will assume you had an affair with me while I was your student, which would cost you not only your job, but also your reputation, which means pretty much all your life."

"Why did you even come to see me that night, by the way? You weren't in love with me at that time."

"I said I _realised_ that I had feelings for you while on the run, which implies they were there before that already. I was shocked, absolutely devastated when I watched you being hit by those Stunners; I was so worried that I ran away to visit you. Come on, how many interpretations of this behaviour can you come up with?"

"My teaching qualities are so exquisite that you couldn't stand the thought of being taught by someone else." A smirk was finally playing around Minerva's lips when she faced the younger witch again.

"Not bad for a first guess," Hermione grinned, "try something less academic?"

Minerva thought for a moment, her eyes twinkling, "You missed having my athletic body around."

The younger woman swallowed, trying to stop herself from staring at her mentor. She recalled the first time she'd seen just how beautiful and athletic Minerva's body was, one night at the Burrow when the older woman had just come back from an undercover meeting with the Muggle education minister, wearing Muggle attire that suited her slim features perfectly.

"We're getting warmer," she teased, trying not to sound too breathless.

"Only warmer?" Minerva asked, quirking a brow. "I think we're actually getting rather hot again." She watched Hermione closely while she pulled her shirt up a few centimetres to reveal a muscular stomach. "It _IS_ hot in here, don't you think?"

Hermione licked her lips unconsciously. It was only when she heard Minerva chuckle that she realised how entranced she was staring at the exposed skin of the older woman's stomach. In her mind, she was touching that porcelain skin, was kissing it, was shoving the shirt further upwards while sneaking one hand between Minerva's thighs and... Gasping for breath, Hermione drew her gaze away and felt herself blush.

"Hermione." The flirty tone in Minerva's voice was gone and the young witch looked up into her serious face. "This could change everything."

"It already has," Hermione countered, nodding.

"You're right, it has. You and I being together, that... that is insane."

"What would be the point in _not_ being together when we know we love each other, and more or less frequently see each other?" Hermione asked, not knowing what else to say. She was becoming more and more desperate. "It's insane, for me, to think about going back to normal when we've just made one hell of a step in another direction tonight."

She took a few steps towards the older witch. With the smallest of grins, she gently pulled Minerva's shirt back down. "That's positively distracting," she commented to explain her action. "Look, I do love you, Minerva. And I'll understand if you say you'll need time. And then, if you're absolutely sure you can't do this because you're not ready to risk your job and reputation for being with me, I'll accept that. If you tell me to walk away, walk out of your life, and that's what you really want, - I won't object. But I'd like you to consider this very, very carefully. Any decision you make will change our lives for good; but please keep in mind that only one holds the possibility to change them for the better."

Minerva closed her eyes and stood silent for a few moments. Then she took Hermione's hands and shook her head slightly. "Hermione, this is not only about _my_ reputation."

The young witch's mouth fell open. "You're worried about _my_ reputation? And what kind of a reputation would that be?" she challenged the other woman.

"You're the brains of the Golden Trio," Minerva replied without hesitation.

"I'm the rational one, the insufferable know-it-all, the girl who likes to spend her nights at the library rather than in someone else's bed. Not exactly a reputation to be proud of, eh? I wouldn't mind people knowing that their bookwormish war heroine is waking up next to the most beautiful, intelligent and powerful witch in the world after a heated night of passionate sex." Hermione smirked a bit and squeezed Minerva's hands that were still holding her own.

Minerva involuntarily chuckled. "What makes you think sex with me might be passionate?"

"You're a passionate woman; as am I." Hermione took a step forward so that their bodies were almost touching, and saw the older woman gasp slightly at their new proximity. She was afraid that Minerva might draw back, that she'd pushed it too far.

Minerva, however, tilted her head forward; it was only a few inches, but Hermione could feel her breath on her face when she next spoke, very quietly, "I can be rough at times."

Hermione felt her knees go all weak. "Thank Merlin," she moaned, "I do need that sometimes."

No mercy was shown when Minerva leant even closer to whisper into her ear, "But also very sensual, mostly."

Goosebumps were spreading over the soft skin of Hermione's neck and down her back. It went further down when Minerva let go of her hands to lay them on her hips. She stroked along the waistband of Hermione's jeans, her fingertips every so often dipping inside teasingly.

A moan escaped the younger witch's lips. "You do of course realise you're making me dripping wet? If you continue this, I might just explode."

She heard a deep chuckle from just beside her ear and a low whispered, "Exactly my plan."

Hermione would never be able to tell if it had been Gryffindor courage or just pure lust that made her say, rather breathlessly, "Then why don't you check out just how wet you're making me?"

When Minerva did, her head fell back and her knees gave out.

* * *

The late morning had Hermione wake first. The young witch checked the alarm clock on her nightstand and noticed her mobile lying nearby, flashing. Slowly she stretched her arm and reached for the small device. She had two new messages.

The first was from Ron, who never really learned how to handle the mobile phone Hermione had got him for his twentieth birthday. His typos (she had long since deactivated the auto correction programme for him, because it had made his texts almost impossible to read) made her laugh quietly as she read: "Great too sea youre happy. Hope evrything went welll. Ring me upp. Btw Dobby saiid Dumbldores houself made te cookies."

Shaking her head, she decided that she really wanted to be present when Minerva talked to the former Headmaster. Mostly because she would have to stop the Headmistress from stabbing his portrait with the sword of Gryffindor, but also because she needed to thank him for sending Minerva into her arms.

The second message was from Marilyn, and Hermione groaned. It said, "So you did not get sloshed, BUT you got laid! Good one!"

'Yes, though', Hermione thought smiling and snuggled back to Minerva's side, 'yes, good one indeed.'

She didn't see the third message that popped up on her phone, minutes later. It was from Harry.

"HAVE YOU HEARD THE RUMOURS THAT MCGONAGALL WAS AT A MUGGLE CLUB TONIGHT AND PICKED UP SOME HOT CHICK?!"

* * *

x

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